in defense of alone-ness

I think alone-ness gets a bad rap because it gets confused with loneliness.  I think parents and our society generally place value on extroversion rather than introversion.  I'm a parent - I know it's tempting to become worried if you see your kid playing alone on the playground, or you notice your child hiding behind your legs when you think they should be well on their way to greeting teachers and classmates with an open smile.  I can't tell you how many people I've worked with professionally who hear an internal voice of criticism in their adult lives when they don't feel that they are fitting in or enjoying social situations fully. 

This is pure observation on my part, but it seems to me that addiction/substance abuse is linked to the confusion betwen alone-ness and loneliness.  Many people I know who struggle with alcohol and drugs experience a deep sense of being alone, even in a crowd of friends.  And they feel anxious about it and judgmental toward themselves - they tell themselves, "look at everyone else having a good time, you don't fit in here.  What's wrong with you?"  Drinking or drugs can temporarily make that awkward feeling go away.

So from Miss Moderation, I can only tell you what my experience is:  I get that feeling too, sometimes. Even with people I love and respect dearly.  And what I've come to believe is that I  have a deep need for alone-ness that I don't always listen to or give enough time to.  In my adult life and as I've gained more understanding of this aspect of myself, I've been at events and gatherings where I've finally thought to myself,  "these are nice people but talking with them is tiring me out.  I'm going to go to the bathroom and just be quiet for a few minutes."  This works for me! 

I'd like to posit that the impulse toward alone-ness is a good and healthy thing - it can look a number of ways:  it can look like staying home on a Friday night when it seems like everyone else is going out.  It can mean that in your circle of friends and acquaintances everyone else seems to value a something (new houses, kids going to a certain school, recommending a particular book for the book club), but there's something that just doesn't fit for you and you acknowledge that to yourself without judgment toward them.  Alone-ness can be literal - going to a movie alone.  It can be figurative -  you can be with others, but still have alone-ness.  Loneliness feels yucky.  Alone-ness runs the gamut of feeling neutral to peaceful or sometimes even brave. 

If you are alone, literally or figuratively, and you're feeling uncomfortable or self-critical, I'd like to suggest an experiment - don't try to alleviate your anxiety by making that phone call, turning on the TV or music, or taking a drink.  Wait it out a bit.  Take some quiet time for yourself.  In your alone-ness, you are actually, truly connected with other people. 

a day late - Happy Valentine's Day!

I am a woman of routine.  Routine is a good thing for the dutiful and I am pretty dutiful.  I am a person who a friend calls, "Miss Moderation."  I get up in the morning and write.  This is how I do so much writing.  Routine, moderation.  I don't often give myself permission to "slack off."  However, I often encourage my clients to "slack off", take time, take care of themselves, enjoy or savor something and be aware of it.  As it goes for many of us, I don't often practice what I preach. 

But I'm going to today!  I have no long musings, deep thoughts on mental health or spirituality that merit a whole bunch of words. 

Here's what I've been thinking of - mostly because of Valentine's Day and also because of the deep appreciation I've been feeling for a number of people in my life recently:  at my church, during the summer, "lay people" give the sermons.  One young man gave several sermons a few years ago, and he was just such a wonderful speaker, a gentle presence, and able to convey a unique and wise perspective...I just always wanted to hug him after he spoke.  I remember he once said, "Of all the forces unleashed in the universe, love is the most powerful." 

I believe it's true.  I feel fortunate to love a lot of people in my life and to feel loved by a lot of people.  Whether it's your significant other, your best friend, your child, your teacher, your dog -  I hope you feel the love this week!

my confidence may be shattered

When I worked as a home hospice social worker, I spent a lot of time driving in my car.  My car was my little respite from work and music was a big part of my "self care" after my hospice visits.  A wonderful nurse, Angela, burned a CD for me - The Be Good Tanyas (http://www.begoodtanyas.com/) , which for my last year or two working in hospice, I tended to listen to over and over - one of the songs covered Neil Young's, For the Turnstiles.  That was my favorite - both for the haunting sound of it and for the way it articulated one of my personal philosophies.  Here's the lyric:  "you can really /learn a lot that way/it will change you /in the middle of the day/ and though your confidence/ may be shattered/ it doesn't matter."  It was a nice way of saying to myself, "you jerk, you're not that important."  And, I don't mean that in a pathetic way - I hope I can do an adequate job, explaining what I mean: 

I began learning this lesson long before hospice work.  I remember when I was 15, on summer break, and received a heartfelt and teen-angst- filled love letter from a guy friend of mine who was away for a month on a foreign exchange program.  According to him, he loved me and needed to know that I loved him back.  He was such a good friend and I fretted and fretted and giggled and went crazy over how in the world I was ever going to break his heart when he got back to the U.S.  How could I let him down easy?  Would it ruin our friendship? Had I led him on?  It was very, very dramatic.  When he returned to St. Louis, I remember dreading to see him for the first time.  I wondered if I would be up to this challenge of being oh so gentle with his heart.  Yet in teenage time, 3 weeks is a very long time.  All the energy I'd spend worrying and feeling my own importance, knowing that I was so integral to this guy's emotional life and well-being was wasted.  In three weeks, he'd fallen in love with a European girl and his love letter had become nothing more than a trifle from his youth. 

I can't say my confidence was shattered, but maybe my ego was a little bruised.  I took it pretty well to heart though.  Maybe I'm not as important as I think I am.

Or maybe, the times I think are important or that I'm  really DOING something aren't the important ones.  Maybe the important times, the times I am of the most influence, or of the most help (hopefully) are the ones I couldn't have foreseen.  This is what I learned in hospice.

My days started by calling a voicemail where staff would report on new patients, medication changes, status changes, and patients who'd died.  I remember certain mornings listening to voicemail and thinking, "Oh my God - I've got 5 new patients from Wildwood to U City - how am I going to see all these people in the next 8 hours?!"  Panic.  Yet often, not everyone wanted to see me that day.  Again, my panic at my own importance was a waste of energy.  Or, I'd spend an hour on the phone to plan all my visits only to get a phone call from my manager saying, "Joe just died and I need you to go."  My whole "plan" would have to change - and fast!  

There were also patients and families that I cared about a great deal and I wanted to be a person who really made a positive difference at a terrible time.  I'm sure I was, on occassion...but I was also part of a team and I never, never forgot how important a nurse or chaplain or massage therapist was.  (Remembering how others can be a positive influence is a good thing to remember in parenting, too.)  Sometimes in hospice work, if felt like timing was everything.  Or maybe it was some combination of me being the right person to help at the right time.  It didn't ever feel like part of my grand design.  Having my confidence "shattered" didn't necessarily feel like a bad thing - it was just realizing how much was out of my control.

I guess it was freeing, too.  To realize "I am important and I am unimportant.  I make a difference, but I am not the only one who makes a difference.  I matter, but my ego doesn't matter."  There's a quote from Ecclesiastes that warns about 'vanity and striving after the wind.'  I think Neil Young said the same thing, in a different way - "in the stands/ the home crowd scatters/ for the turnstiles."